Carpe Diem
by xBlueMagnoliax
Summary: While out on the road, Daryl finds some cigarettes and Beth asks to try one. [Request/One Shot]


"Jackpot," Daryl said as he rifled through the glove box of the decrepit gray jeep, half-eroded into the asphalt.

"What'd you find?" Beth asked, looking through the driver's side window to see Daryl fingering open a tattered box of cheap cigarettes. She watched him slip one behind his ear, one between his lips and the third was tucked away in his back pocket before he threw the empty box to the floor of the jeep. The glove box had yielded no lighter, but when he pulled down the visor, a green translucent lighter fell onto the seat, one of those 99 cent ones that a person picked up in a hurry when they realized cold turkey was too damn difficult. Daryl spent the better part of the next twenty seconds willing the crappy lighter to ignite enough to light his cigarette, which was so delicately balance on his bottom lip, his tongue already eagerly seeking out the flavor of tobacco smoke and nicotine.

"C'mon, you bastard. Light," he grumble around the foreign object protruding from his mouth.

Beth sighed and shook her head as he finally achieved fire and lit up. Drawing in smoke like it was air, he let it out through his nostrils, looking down at the cigarette. It probably wasn't worth it. Such a horrible brand, but beggars couldn't really be choosers at the end of the world.

"Wow, these are terrible," he groaned before taking another puff.

"Then why smoke 'em?" Beth asked as she shoved more odds and ends into their backpack.

"'Cause I can."

"Yeah, okay. But _why_?"

Daryl shrugged. "Some habits are hard to break. And some you just don't wanna." He walked around the jeep to where she was.

"Too bad we didn't find anything really useful," she said as she watched him lean against the side of the vehicle, taking a few moments to just enjoy his smoke. The way he drew in the toxic fumes like one would draw a lover into their arms, Beth just leaned into the jeep beside him and tried to understand the appeal. "Should I leave you two alone?" she teased.

He gave her a smug glance and smirked. "What's up with you?"

Beth studied him for a few moments, her eyes wandering up and down in curious wonder. Finally, she smiled and straightened up, reaching out and plucking the second cigarette from behind his ear. "I wanna try one."

"Hey!" Daryl grabbed her wrist, and despite the fact he reacted with all of the speed of a rattlesnake striking, his grip was achingly gentle. He pulled the cigarette from her fingers and shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"You ever smoke one before?" he asked.

"No. Maggie did, though," Beth said, nodding her head. "She's done a lot of things I haven't."

He tucked the cigarette behind his ear again. "Yeah, well, this is one of those things you shouldn't start doin' just 'cause you can."

"You still smoke 'em," she said. "If they're so bad, why don't you quit? No better excuse than the end of the world."

"Yeah," he laughed, "and the world's gonna run out of cigarettes one of these days, so I'm gonna enjoy 'em when I find 'em, and I ain't gonna be sorry for it. Carpe diem and all that crap."

"All the more reason for me to try one, right?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"No."

"You're not givin' me a good reason," she said.

He looked at her and shook his head. "What reason do you need? It's bad for you? It's addictive?"

"And I'm probably not gonna live long enough for that to be an issue—"

Daryl straightened up and turned to face her. "Will you stop sayin' that?"

Beth paused and immediately wished she could take it back. He didn't like it when Beth made light of her own mortality. "Daryl… I—"

"Just… don't ever say that again."

She nodded and, although she considered just letting the subject drop, she couldn't. "I'm not askin' to make it a habit, Daryl. I just wanted to see what it's like. Just once."

"First moonshine, then arson… now cigarettes? Who knew Beth Greene was such a rebel?" He chuckled.

"Taking one inhale of a cigarette isn't going to kill me tomorrow, Daryl, but we walk through the wrong door or around the wrong tree at the wrong time and it's game over. Don't you think that's just a little messed up?"

"Thought we weren't sayin' stuff like that anymore—"

Beth held out her hand. "Daryl. Give me the damn cigarette and tell me what to do."

Daryl hesitated a moment before plucking the half-burned cigarette from his mouth and offering it to Beth. "Just put it to your lips and inhale. Just… not too deep, okay?"

"Why, Mr. Dixon, are you concerned I can't handle it?" she teased.

"More worried about what might hear you when you start hacking up a lung," he said, honestly.

"It'll be fine," Beth said as she took a breath of pure, fresh Georgia air then brought the cigarette to her lips.

Daryl watched with concern visibly etched on his face. Watching Beth do this bothered him. This was his dirty habit that he didn't give two shits about other people's opinions on. He was going to do what he liked, but Beth? It bothered him deep down, on some level where all that came to mind was how the last woman he loved had been, in a weird way, taken away from him by a smoldering Virginia Slim. Not Beth, though. He didn't want to lose her… to anything. Not a walker, not a flu, not a cigarette.

He winced a bit when she bent over, grasping the side of the jeep as she coughed, sucking in clear air as deeply and quickly as she could; eyes red and tears streaming down her cheeks. He took the cigarette from her again and held it between his lips once more as he circled around beside Beth, placing a hand on her back and patting it lightly. He rubbed his hand up and down between her shoulder blades in a comforting manner.

"You okay?" he asked, to which she could only cough and gag and shake her head. He wanted to say 'I told you so' or something along those lines, but he bit his tongue. Beth was one of the smartest people he knew, and she already would have come to that realization on her own. Instead, he opted to simply embrace the relief he felt over the fact that she seemed completely disenchanted with the idea of picking up the habit for herself. "Just breathe. It'll pass," he assured her.

Never again, Beth thought. Never again would she try another cigarette. Daryl could have them. She wasn't sure how anyone could get used to the sensation of that heavy smoke invading their lungs. She supposed that's what addiction was, though. It was difficult — sometimes impossible — to quit some things, to let go. A lot like loving someone, she supposed. Some people you just couldn't shake, couldn't let go of, even after they're gone. Like her dad, or like she and Daryl would learn quite soon, each other.

After a few moment, Beth finally straightened up. It took her just enough time for Daryl to finish burning his cigarette down to its filter. He dropped the butt onto the ground and slid his shoe over it, extinguishing any remaining embers. He gently grabbed Beth's shoulders and turned her to face him as she rested back against the jeep, still taking in deep breaths. She seemed embarrassed and red-faced, though he was sure some of that was from all of the coughing.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

She looked up at him sheepishly and nodded. He brought his hands up, cupping her face between them and studying her a little more. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away dirt and tears — or smearing them, rather — across her pallid skin. He nodded in return, as though to reinforce that, yes, she'd be okay.

There came the sounds of branches and brush crackling in the woods around the road, followed by some soft moans. He looked at her and cocked his head, letting go of her. He grabbed the backpack off the group and slung it over one shoulder, then retrieved his crossbow from the roof of the jeep. He turned and reached out for Beth with his free hand. She moved over to him and he placed his hand on her back, guiding her quickly away from the road and back into the thick, Georgian woods.

They disappeared into the shadows of the trees just as a small cluster of walkers ambled out onto the road, likely having — as Daryl suspected — heard Beth's coughing and been drawn to the sound. But, already, Beth and Daryl were safely away; Daryl two cigarettes richer and Beth one cigarette wiser.


End file.
